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A few mornings were recently spent in a luminous maritime sea cliff garden sunroom; before my family began their day I sat and slipped sideways into a cacophony of atavistic jungle forces.

Using the language of cackling, crying and hooting, squirrels and crows violently fought over a wide landscape, oceanscape, sky-tree and grasscape, extending right into my screened in mindscape.

The primitive sounds dominated experiencing, it was very difficult to face the vibrant onslaught with dignity, but patience and shreds of human memory prevailed in my local-scape, as I watched how the escalating demands of creatures all `round form the multicolored universe.

A "real" humming bird visited from a higher vibratory existence elegantly sipping nectars out of yellow and red trumpets by nakedly poking into this chaotic dimension and then majesticly resuming its refuge at speeds unmatched leaving its trace as a mere hummmd sound.

Soon the "human" children were duplicating this interplay over arbitrary territories of toy-scapes and breakfast-scapes.

Upon waking from a dream, I went to the computer room and sat down at the desk with my pipe lighter and book.

In the last dream of the night, my wife (who had become a young girl) had opened an ice-cream store and received her flavors in cardboard tubs and we hoisted them to a space under the front store window below a wide container of cooling ICE. Customers could see all the flavors from outside and how cool and refreshing it was in the store.

The store was an antique and really everybody expected things to be arranged that way. I could not think otherwise.

Anyway without switching on the computer or starting any other beginnings, I had my puff and put head down on the desk with my feet dangling down from the chair.

Everything went stretchy and melty, the legs dripping down and I kept still.

Colored ice cream plastic disks emerged from nowhere with drippy stretchy connections and from them a space not unlike the dream store was reconstructed; I was so excited to write something of this down. The characters from the dream were with me and consulted about the merits of writing something, although recognizing that it stops the process of creation within the ice cream city it is better than forgetting it altogether.

Too soon the whole thing passed and the excitement of it is just another memory.

That's so cool! You were back in the same place, but this time your presence and abilities were entirely different. But why would their process of creation be stopped? Because you weren't just a passive observer this time and had the power to create there too?

--------------------Absense of evidence is not evidence of absense...

"Religion is a defense against a religious experience"
Carl G. Jung

"So really, ordinary reality is a kind of chemical habit, sanctioned by culture, which says it's okay to use certain drugs, eat certain foods, and have certain sexual behaviors. However, when you transcend all this pre-conditioning by returning to the original wisdom of the animal body, then you discover this immense dimension of opportunity. For some people, it is a frightening risk. To me, that's the psychedelic experience."
Terence McKenna